Covert Occupations

Chapter 1.

A/N: So I had a slight problem with this story. I had been planning to make Thranduil figure prominently in one of my stories for a while, since quite a few of my readers like him so much (and I do too). I put a Thranduil story as a choice for my poll; little did I know that it would win by a landslide. Now here's the problem: I knew I wanted him in something; but I had no idea what to make the story about.

Out of desperation I finally settled on this idea which was given to me quite a while ago by OneSizeFitsAll. I had originally meant to put it in Life of Lindir; but I decided to publish it separately instead, since I have lots of parts lined up for LoL and I needed a Thranduil story fast. XD

I hope you all enjoy, Thranduil-lovers and Thranduil-haters alike. Don't forget to review! It's the only reward I get for the long toiling over my writings… (picture this: a huddled figure wrapped in a rough blanket bending over a desk on which there stands an ink pot and a flickering candle; gripping between cold fingers that peak out of torn gloves a long quill pen and muttering about elves and butterflies and being underappreciated)... :P

'LINDIR.' said a voice.

This time it wasn't a roar.

Lindir winced.

All morning long, Elrond had been yelling at him for one reason or another. First it was his robe. Where was it? Why was it not in its usual place, laid over the end of his bed? Lindir had rushed in with the voluminous garment in his arms, saying apologetically that he had been just finishing up ironing it. Next it was the elven lord's hair clip. It wasn't in its place either. He had searched for it everywhere! Lindir had rushed in again to find the elusive clip under the vanity. And now- now what could it be?

'LINDIR' said Elrond.

He wasn't yelling. Just speaking with intense anger and in his deepest voice. This worried Lindir.

Lindir had just recently become lord Elrond's valet. Due to being overly stressed by general problems (the twins had gotten injured again; he had just gotten an angry letter from Celebrian complaining about how he didn't send her enough letters back; and Cirdan had gotten him worried about the erosion of the beaches), the elven lord had decided he needed some help with normal everyday things. And who did he pick? The most useless person in Imladris, of course! No one would miss Lindir's previous trilling and trololoing. Not at all. Now Lindir regretted having ever agreed to the job. He hadn't meant to; in fact, he had promised himself that he would say no when lord Elrond asked him. But Lindir is a pushover.

'LINDIR!' said lord Elrond.

Lindir finally got up the gumption to see what he wanted.

'Yes, milord?' he said politely.

'I JUST FOUND ONE OF YOUR COMPOSITIONS,' said Elrond. He was talking in that annoying, slow, serious tone that grown-ups talk in when they want to show you that they extremely disapprove of something you did.

Lindir smiled wanly. 'You did?' he said, hoping that it wasn't that one that-

'I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU,' said Elrond, tossing Lindir several pages on which was scrawled some music notes and lyrics. Lindir glanced at them and cringed. No wonder.

Then Elrond exploded and started talking in his normal voice again. 'One does not simply write songs about King Thranduil's son called Dirty Blonde!' he roared. 'No matter how much you dislike Legolas, you can't just write things like that! It's slander!'

'I think the word you are groping for is libel, sir,' Erestor corrected.

'It's libel!' Elrond roared. 'If the Elvenking found this he would sue you, and you being the penniless pauper you are, I'd have to pay for everything!' Elrond began to pace the room with angry footsteps and angry eyebrows. 'You know Thranduil! If he sees a chance, he'll go for it. He'll sue you for the song, and sue me for not sueing you first, and sue Galadriel for letting me on the White Council. He'd probably even sue his own son for being your friend! Then he'd say there'd been damage done to Legolas' emotional health, and sue us all again. AH!'

Elrond collapsed into a chair and threw his tiara across the room. 'AH!' he repeated passionately.

'I'm sorry-' Lindir began weakly.

'I'm too stressed out for this kind of thing,' Elrond yelled, burying his head in his hands. 'Oh, Celebrian, why did you ever leave me alooooone?'

'Speaking of which, my lord,' said Erestor, 'there is paper and a pen on the desk for your next letter to her. You haven't written in eight months...'

'You're not helping, Erestor,' said Elrond angstily. 'Oh, why was not I the one slayed by the balrog? Aaah! I wish I was deeeeeeeeaaaaaaaad!'

'Denethor could help you with that,' said Lindir helpfully.

'AH!' said Elrond again. 'I've born enough, Lindir. Not that I don't like you; it's just… you're… so annoying sometimes! You must see that I'm a mental wreck as it is. I'm sorry, but I'll just have to fire you.'

Lindir's mouth dropped open. 'B-b-but milord,' he said, shocked.

'It's final!' said Elrond.

Lindir made an angsty face. Lindir stood up angstily. Lindir lifted his angsty chin and said angstily, 'Very well, lord Elrond. You have made your choice. Do not blame me if you regret it!' Then he angstily stomped out of the room.

He was rather disappointed when Elrond didn't immediately come flying after him, tears in his eyes and repentance in his heart for his cruel behavior. He stomped to his room, half-heartbroken, half-angry, and unsure of why he was either. Didn't he want to be fired? He didn't like the job, anyway! He didn't even like his employer! Why would he be so sad when he was suddenly thrust from something he hated so much?

Lindir stomped to his room, stomped to his bed, threw himself onto it, and kicked his feet against it. 'Why does everything happen to meeeeeeee?' he asked the Valar. 'Torment me no longer!'

Then Lindir had a revelation. It was not right to be stuck in a puny life, doing puny little things that no one cared about. Why should he? Why should he remain average? Why not take that little step; that miniscule step from mediocrity into amazingness?

Lindir began to feel inspired.

Could he not just bridge the gap from being the minstrel no one loved to the rock star everyone applauded? What were his brightest dreams? His highest stars? Now he was free! Now he could reach for them!

Lindir felt extremely inspired. He would totally write a song about how his life changed drastically for the better after this inspiring moment.

He hopped off of his bed, grabbed a convenient notebook and began to scribble.

Lindir's plan for being Awesome, he began.

Step 1. Find out what you want to do with your crumby immortal life.

Step 2. Do it.

It sounded so simple! Maybe he could even write a book about it! He sat back and started thinking about Step 1.

'I know!' he said, jumping up. 'I want to be popular! Never in my life have I been popular! If I was everything would be better! So how do I get popular?' He thought for a minute. 'That's it! Who is the number 1 popular person in Arda today? Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood. Why is he so popular? Because of his rap special, They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard! How do I do something as popular as that? I become a rock star!'

Lindir was getting overly excited and began to jump on the bed.

'Now obviously I can't be a rock star in Imladris,' he reasoned. 'Lord Elrond has outlawed it. But in Mirkwood everyone loves rock music. I like where this is heading!' Lindir squeeed loudly. 'I can live with Feren for a while! This is perfect. I'll write awesome songs and everyone will love me!'

Lindir flopped down onto his bed again and sighed contentedly. 'I'll pack tomorrow and then I'll be off. Mirkwood, here I come!'

So, yeah, sorry that Thranduil hasn't made an appearance yet. He will shortly, I promise. This was supposed to be a purely humorous story, but as I was writing it I began to realize how much angst is in here. Poor Elrond, with all his marital problems. Poor Lindir with all his- well. EVERYTHING problems. Poor Erestor with having to deal with both of those emos. XD It's kind of pathetic, really. Anyways, please review and tell me what you think! Will going to Mirkwood and getting popular solve all my poor sweet Lindir's problems?